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The Musician offered a hand to stabilize Sapphire as she set down.

"That was scary stuff- and you got out of its way. That's not the wrong move. Want to go check out that railing?"

"Your wings are lovely, by the way," she added.

"Sorry, guys. I wasn't really very helpful." They fidgeted nervously. "I... I guess we should follow Rod's idea; it's the best we've got."

I've got ... 8, mostly because almost all my operating's been under club calls.

I started working on CW at one point ages back and then sort of abandoned it. I'll get around to learning one of these days I swear. (It'll probably happen right around when I publish some PPC writing lol.)

btu de Tomash k

I mean, because of QRZ and other things that allow people to look up callsigns and get names of people.

I'll have to go into my basement and check what kind of radio I have, but it's a pretty small one, since my dad (who has a license too and got me into ham radio) prefers QRP operation. I'm pretty much all-digital in terms of modes, and I like going after certificates like Worked All States and whatnot. I'm also in the process of learning Morse code, but haven't finished yet... Either way, that's pretty cool that there's another ham out here!

73 de Twistey

1. Name: The Thought Police
   
   2. Name: The Brass Hawk
   Catchphrase: "You're just a cog in the machine."
   
   3. Name: The Reference
   Catchphrase: "Here's a little something you may have missed."
   Blurb: Inner-city girl Mary Swiftin's heart was broken when her public library had to close due to bankruptcy, where she had learned everything she knew, being too poor to go to school. She began researching weapons and technology, and now in her womanhood, she works as a self-made superhero, a protector of facts and evidence and a foe to those who conceal the truth. Oppressive governments everywhere fear the name of The Reference!
   
   Wow... I'm kind of impressed with myself there. I did not expect that to happen. *pats self on back*
   
   -Twistey

"I wanted something sort of cool and every other thing I thought of sounded off. I'd never heard of a turkey in relation to bowling before." She ate another bite of ice cream, still glancing around her. "Want to head back to Calliope's body? I want to take another look at it."

'It's not meant to be the animal, it's when you get three strikes. In bowling.' He gestured sadly around his head. 'Bowling theme. Get it?' He did not want his horrible choice of name to be the topic of conversation and nearly immediately steered it away: 'Wait, so what's your mystery hidey-name, then?'

I mean, that's a cool power that doesn't get used very often, plus it appeals to literature geeks like us :D

-Twistey
Here's a Superpower Wiki page on that power: http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Vocal_Narration

"I'm getting the strangest feeling," she muttered, "that someone else just said something, but I can't hear them. Argh, that's uncomfortable. You feeling that, Feen?" She chuckled. "Feening that, I guess? Er, what's your RP name, anyway?" She blinked. "Did I ask that already?"

The Hostess - no, she wasn't the Hostess right now. This was too sweet for that.

Calliope had to smile at her guests when they were genuinely enjoying themselves, as Lady Red and Victory were so obviously doing. Granted, Lady Red was all huffy about her diet (those things always struck her as a little silly, anyways, but she'd never had reason to seriously consider one so she was probably A Little Biased and Lady Red might have been on one for a good reason and okay now she felt a little bad), but she was certainly enjoying the ice cream!

Calliope was a little sad nobody got the joke with the ice-cream cake though. Oh well, someone who did would show up sooner or later. Preferably sooner, but given his other concerns, it would be a while.

He looked up, inserted the spoon into his mouth, and pulled it out perfectly clean. It looked like it had just been forged. It caught the light and glinted. He placed it to rest in the bowl.

'I like this part of our plan, Leeb,' he said, vacuuming down a segment of his cup of hot chocolate that left his lips boiling hot and steaming, not that he even seemed to notice. 'As much as I like the "mystery solving" part of it and getting murdered and pulled into alternate dimensions and stuff, I think we should try to extend this section of the plan as long as possible. For, erm.' The spoon entered his mouth with a globule of ice cream on it and exited empty and shining and disinfected. 'To give the mystery solving bit better integrity to stand on. For that reason.'

"She knows I'm on a diet, doesn't she," she said, glaring at the ice cream and chocolate milk. "And she knows I'm gonna eat this anyway because goshdarn it, this is a party, I'm allowed to have ice cream." Angrily, she picked up a bowl and dug herself out several scoops, using unnecessary force. This done, she seized a spoon and plunged it into her bowl. "Delicious," she growled around the bite. "Rocky road with marshmallows, my favorite. Actually, no, Phish Food is my favorite, but whatever. Close enough. Feen, you want anything?" she demanded, turning to her friend.

On this Board were several different types of pieces - chess, checkers, Monopoly tokens, D&D figurines… each piece represented a person or force within her Party.

With a soft hum, she reached into a box of figurines and pulled out what looked like a miniature clown. “You’ll do,” she murmured as she placed him at the edge of the Board. After a moment, she picked him back up and moved him closer to the center - Spanky would be rather powerful, after all.

Just as soon as he joined in.

After consideration, she moved a few other pieces around - the White Queen, the Black Knight, the Iron, a wooden bell… it was hard to tell whether this affected anything or was just her way of keeping track.

Once she was done moving the pieces around, the Hostess took out a deck of cards and looked them over. “Not bad,” she muttered grudgingly. “I do have to give you some credit.”

Finally, she put the cards down and began to pace. Being ‘dead’ was boring. She wanted to be out there meddling, not observing! Okay, sure, she was still meddling. But she wasn’t out there, dropping more clues, talking to her guests… just sitting in her void, keeping her Board up to date and looking at her cards.

Being passive was so dull.

...you notice a rather distinct lack of coffee.

Right. Cal hates the taste of coffee, and isn't exactly fond of the smell either.

There is also, however, a lack of tea. There's quite a bit of hot chocolate and chocolate milk, as well as ice cream (which could become ice cream soup, which is sort of beverage-ish), lemonade, and apple juice. Alright then.

You could try to find the kitchen, since the owner of the house might be a little more coffee-inclined.

But don't expect people to attach the same meanings to them as you do! ^_~

hS

Can I use superhero names from my writings in this (without giving anyone any details about them)?

1. Name: The Brass Hawk
   
   2. Name: The Reference
   Catchphrase: "Here's a little something you may have missed."
   
   3. Name: American Aardvark
   Catchphrase: "Prepare for a tongue-lashing!"
   Blurb: By day a quiet zoologist, by night an awesome mix of Man and Aardvark. Frank Goodson is dedicated to wiping out organized crime in America. With a long and quick tongue (in both meanings of the word) those who do not back down without a fight cannot hope to win one against: The one, the only, the American Aardvark!

"I guess that was a terrible idea . . . Should we maybe check out the top of the banister, where Call seemed to be hung from?"

"I was going to suggest trying a different door, but if that's the case..."

The Musician focused for a moment, two deep breaths, as she let go of the light she had called up. It faded away, although she was still faintly luminous.

"What did the message on the door say?" she asked. "Was it a warning of black clouds of doom?"

one on one or fighting in small numbers.

But I will not extend the same conclusion to the battles later. Due to system limitations, M&B often do not allow everyone to be on the field at once if their numbers are too large, they placed a limit on how many bodies can be rendered at one time. So there are waves of attacks, instead of only one setpiece battle. There are mods for enlarging the numbers beyond basegame allowance, but it makes my computer too slow.

Thus, there are tactics that employs this situation, such as rearranging your troop type to match the weakness of the enemy troop type. Or making the number of people on the battle field very small so you can solo them on your own if you are OP. I intend to capture that situation. After all, I am writing a realistic-ish M&B and KnB crossover fanfic, not a low fantasy KnB fanfic.

"I wasn't singed, and even if I had been, you were only trying to help." The Ghast traced the lines on the hilt of their sword as they thought. "I'm not sure. We could try to go exploring, since I'm pretty sure that's what she wants us to do, but it's only going to get more dangerous from here..."

Usually a game's combat system is there to create an accessable way for players to fight. It is impossible to create a combat system that replicates the effect of real fights. Therefore I think that regardless of world expanding or whatnot, one should not think of a game's combat system as the way characters actually fight in universe, and instead think of it as simply a representation of what occured.

The Evil of the Daleks, waaaaay back in the Second Doctor's era. Check out the summaries for Episode 6 onwards, starting (at the end of Episode 5) with this:

Then the three test Daleks with the Human Factor activate; rather than being invincible killing machines, they are childlike and playful, forcing the Doctor into a game of trains with them.

You're right that baseline Daleks will hate the PPC's Daleks and probably jump directly to trying to kill them. So let's not send them on missions that put them in contact with the rest of the species, I guess?

hS

"Sorry if you got a bit singed. Tried to take out the source, but the fog made it a bit hard to aim. I know it passed closer than I'd like." He tapped the cane on the ground. "So what's our next plan?"